


Nothing Left

by RednReady



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 13:37:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10945608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RednReady/pseuds/RednReady
Summary: Post 3x18 drabbles.





	Nothing Left

It was so quiet here. Soul quiet. No hustle or bustle. Dom the only other person for miles. And he was gone for the afternoon.

Raymond hadn't been here in years; he wandered the house on instinct. Most things were in the same old places.

Upon returning from a brief walk, he noticed a loose board on the tiny back porch. Nothing a hammer and nail couldn't fix. One repair led to another, and before he knew it, he was testing out the sturdiness of a weather-beaten wooden ladder so he could climb up to the eaves.

Manual labor. Another thing he hadn't done in years. It felt good, actually. Kept his mind off of...things.

Dom's reaction had been...resigned. As if he'd anticipated that Raymond would inevitably fail in his quest to keep his granddaughter safe.

Reddington didn't take his barbs personally. He spoke out of grief, something Red understood all too well. He couldn't expect Dom to find fault in Katarina's part of what had happened. Much easier to blame the young Naval officer who had, admittedly, been a bit arrogant back in the day.

The man had lost his daughter. And now his granddaughter. Red couldn't fault him for anything he might say to make himself feel better about that.

Red suddenly realized that he'd been standing on the third rung of the ladder staring at the wood grain above him for a few long minutes. He shook himself from his thoughts and threw himself back into the work.

Despite his best efforts, his mind wandered. Back to that terrible van. Back to where he had left his heart and soul behind. To where he too had died.

The rest of that day had been complete and total shock. Daze. Had it really happened? It couldn't possibly have happened. He turned every second over and over again in his mind.

It was always a possibility, that it would come to that. He lived in a near constant state of concern. But they had made it so far, beaten the odds so many times together. So many times he'd feared the worst only to watch her emerge from the smoking building or hear her answer her phone. So many times she'd survived, had overcome. She'd exceeded his wildest expectations.

And then... It wasn't supposed to end like this. It couldn't be real.

Dembe drove him back to the nightclub. Back to Agnes. And for a few moments things were...bittersweet. But those moments didn't last.

Tom wanted him gone, out of his daughter's life forever. And how could Reddington deny him that right? After all, Tom was her father. An undeserving one, but Red was in no mood to put up a fight. Not after that day. He left his men in charge of security against any other attacks and disappeared into the night.

He eluded Dembe. He walked to the nearest station and boarded, taking none of his usual precautions. So what if they caught him? What did it matter anymore?

While on the train he could feel the shock beginning to slip, his resolve beginning to weaken. The old familiar ache of grief seeping in at the edges.

No. No, not here. Not yet.

One of the stops was two blocks from an opium den he was sure Dembe didn't know about. One he hadn't been to in ages, but was sure was still there. The woman immediately set him up with a bunk and a pipe.

He didn't want to feel anything. He wanted to forget. If he could just keep the shock going, keep it from becoming reality...

He wanted to freeze time and reverse it. Go back to twelve hours before and do things differently...so very differently. He didn't want to think about...

All he could do was inhale enough opium to send him into a mostly dreamless sleep.

From the opium den to the Cape. From the Cape to Dom. And now... the quiet. The opium-free quiet. Dom's house was a mess, but there were only so many things he could fix before it all caught up to him. Before the undertow swept him away.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't done. It might never be done. But Reddington couldn't bring himself to care.

The object, the reason for it all... that was gone. He was going to do this one last thing. He was going to kill Kirk. And then he was going to disappear.

He would give Kaplan instructions on what to do about Agnes. Red would still watch out for her, but Tom would be more receptive to a liaison who wasn't him. Red would have his hands full, fleeing for his life again. Or perhaps, this time, he should just let them take him.

In a little under an hour he would be back in DC. One last time.

 

* * *

 

He hadn't attended her funeral, but he knew where to find the grave. Dembe made sure of that.

He felt guilty about missing it, about not being there when they lowered her into the cold ground. The thought of it made him sick. But he knew he couldn't... 

For one thing he wouldn't be welcome. Best to let the others mourn her in peace.

For another.. he couldn't very well show up in broad daylight at a funeral for an FBI agent, now could he?

And the real reason... there was simply no way he would be able to handle it.

But now, under cover of darkness, he reads her name in the moonlight. Without another soul nearby to witness the tears coursing down his cheeks.

He says goodbye.

 

* * *

 

Five minutes. Five more minutes and it would be done.

Security was insane. They would determine where the shot had come from and be upon them in a matter of minutes, if that. Red had an escape plan, but was unsure they would get out in time. It was likely the answer was no. He hoped to at least distract the authorities long enough for Dembe and the rest of his men to get away.

And then there was Donald. Good old Donald. Full of vim and vigor and principles that Reddington had long ago sacrificed on the altar of survival, both for himself and his loved ones. How he longed for the days when things were that simple. When black and white were concepts he understood. When the calls were easy to make.

Do the right thing. Do the lawful thing. No matter the consequences.

But maybe this was also easy. Vengeance was easy.

Kill the man who killed Elizabeth. No matter the consequences.


End file.
